


The Only Gift I Want Is--

by darrinya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas fic, Disaster Harry, Established Relationship, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, gift-giving, he's such a himbo but i love him all the same, i want to kill someone to make up for all the fluff i just wrote, scorpius draws a picture!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28057824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darrinya/pseuds/darrinya
Summary: Would it be too much to ask for Draco to just . . . magically plant the perfect gift into Harry’s brain? But no. Draco is “fine with whatever you choose,” except that’s naturally a complete lie. Draco is obnoxiously particular. He just refuses to tell Harry the details of said particularities.Scorpius, at least, is very quick to exclaim his mile-long Christmas list, ninety percent of which is candy. That’s all he really wants in life—chocolate and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.But Draco. Draco bloody Malfoy has to make things difficult, doesn’t he?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Scorpius Malfoy & Harry Potter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86





	The Only Gift I Want Is--

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ununquadius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununquadius/gifts).



> HAPPY HOLIDAYS, UNUN! I hope this fluff makes up for all the angst I put you through.
> 
> Thanks to littlefanbean.tumblr.com for the beta work!

Harry hates Christmas with every fiber of his being. 

Would it be too much to ask for Draco to just . . . magically plant the perfect gift into Harry’s brain? But no. Draco is “fine with whatever you choose,” except that’s naturally a complete lie. Draco is _obnoxiously_ particular. He just refuses to tell Harry the details of said particularities. 

Scorpius, at least, is very quick to exclaim his mile-long Christmas list, ninety percent of which is candy. That’s all he really wants in life—chocolate and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. 

But Draco. _Draco bloody Malfoy_ has to make things difficult, doesn’t he?

Prick. 

Harry glares at the selection of ties in front of him. They are all very nice ties and undoubtedly expensive ones at that, but Harry has the sinking feeling that Draco already owns all of them. That’s the problem with dating one of the richest wizards in England who, unlike Harry, has no reservations about spending said riches. He has already purchased everything. 

Harry wishes Christmas would just die already. They’re not even Christian! Why are they celebrating this?

Because materialism, that’s why. 

“Damn white people,” Harry mutters under his breath. 

The shop attendant, a young Korean woman named Tori, nods sympathetically. 

“I completely understand, sir,” she says. “I dated a white man last year, and it was the worst dating experience of my life.”

“Was he a posh white boy?” Harry asks. 

Tori says, “Thankfully not. I’m assuming yours is?”

Harry nods morosely, and she gives him a look of deep pity. Tori nudges a deep green tie forward.

“This is very popular with the rich white boys who come in,” she says solemnly. “Matches your eyes, too.”

“It probably won’t do,” Harry says glumly but purchases it anyway. 

Harry trudges home, counting the days until his doom. 

.

“Just give him a nice massage,” advises Ron at the bar. “That’s what I do for Hermione, and it works like a charm every year.”

“But he goes to the spa to get professional massages,” Harry protests. “Why would he want _me_ to do it?”

Ron rolls his eyes and take a swig of beer, clearly signaling that he wants this conversation over with. Ron is a good friend, but he can only handle listening to Harry’s gift woes for so long. 

Harry leans back in his seat and sighs.

“The worst thing is that he always knows what to get me,” grumbles Harry. “Then I feel like a complete prat as he pastes on his polite society smile and tells me how much he loves mine.”

Ron is too busy drinking to answer, which is most likely a purposeful decision. 

Harry wishes he were drinking, too, but the memory of Vernon’s drunken flush keeps him from any form of alcohol more effectively than any vow of abstinence. 

“I suppose I could just give him money,” says Harry. 

Ron snorts, nearly spraying beer across the table. 

“That’s like giving a florist flowers, mate,” he says. 

“Well, what else am I—“

Epiphany strikes, and Harry sits upright. 

He knows the perfect gift to give. 

Now if only he can work up the courage to actually give it. 

.

Harry apparates to Draco’s house. Immediately, the sound of Scorpius’s slippered feet pattering down the stairs greets Harry’s ears. Scorpius skids to a stop in front of Harry, and Harry instinctively opens his arms for a hug. 

“Oh,” Scorpius says, visibly disappointed. “Hullo, Harry. I thought you were Rose.”

Harry’s blink rate shoots up. 

“We’re s’posed to play today,” Scorpius continues obliviously. He brightens. “Are you here to take me to her?”

Harry awkwardly lets his hands dangle at his sides. 

Draco comes down and kisses the top of Scorpius’s head. 

“Harry’s here to see me,” says Draco. “Hermione will bring Rose by later.” He nudges Scorpius gently. “Give Harry a hug?”

“Oh, that’s okay—“ Harry starts to say. 

Scorpius wraps his arms around Harry’s waist for less than one second before skipping off, humming a cheerful tune. 

“Sorry,” Draco says. “He does that to me, too.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says. 

Draco and Harry have only been dating for two years. Harry doesn’t see Scorpius as much as he would like, due to Harry’s work schedule, and Scorpius’s schoolwork. Harry can’t expect Scorpius to be excited to see him. 

(Except Harry does expect it because his foolish heart has no grip on reality.)

“Ready to go?” Draco asks, a smile curling up his lips. 

Harry forces a smile. “Sure,” he says, taking Draco’s hand.

.

When Harry and Draco get back, Scorpius and Rose are hard at work over drawings. Harry catches a glimpse of people holding hands on Scorpius’s paper and leans in slightly to get a better look. 

“How lovely—“

Upon hearing Harry’s voice, Scorpius quickly flips the paper over.

“Hi, Daddy! Hi, Harry!” he squeaks, blushing. Rose starts to laugh, and Scorpius glares at her. 

“Hello, love,” Draco says, giving Scorpius a brief hug. “Want to show Harry your picture?”

Scorpius shakes his head.

Draco gives Harry a sympathetic smile. 

.

On Christmas day, Harry is trying his best to calm himself down. 

It’s fine. Draco will love it. Harry is just being paranoid. 

Harry uses the Floo to go to Molly and Arthur’s house. He barely gets through the door when Molly is enveloping him into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she says. She pulls back and pokes him. “You’re so thin, Harry. Have you been eating?”

Looking slightly harassed, Draco steps next to Harry. Harry laughs at the sight of the paper crown on Draco’s head. 

“Tell me about it,” Draco says, pecking Harry’s cheek. “He’s always rushing to and fro. I swear, he practically lives off of protein bars.”

“Emphasis on _protein,”_ Harry says defensively. 

“Well, you’re about to be stuffed today,” Ron says cheerfully, pulling Harry into a hug. “Come on, then. We’ll get you all set up.”

Scorpius and Rose run into the room, giggling hysterically. Rose clutches a tinsel circlet in her small fist. 

“Pick me up?” she asks Ron hopefully. 

Ron groans and hoists her up. 

“You’re getting too big for this,” he grumbles. 

Rose ignores him and plops the tinsel circlet on Harry’s head. 

“Now you and Draco match,” she says brightly.

Rose squirms out of Ron’s arms and high-fives Scorpius. Scorpius hugs Harry for about two seconds before he and Rose run off again, probably to plan world domination. 

Progress, Harry supposes. 

“Your Majesty,” Draco says with a grandiose bow.

Harry snorts and shoves Draco’s shoulder. 

“Whatever,” he says. “We all know you’re the drama queen.”

Draco looks so offended that Harry just has to kiss him.

.

When it comes time for presents, Harry finds that Draco, per usual, found the perfect gift: a bright red, heated blanket with Snitches zooming across the fabric. 

“You’re always complaining about being cold,” Draco says in his offhand way. 

Harry shakes the blanket out and wraps it around his shoulders. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

Draco carefully unwraps his gift from Molly. As Harry expected, it’s a sweater—silver yarn with a dark green _M_ on the front. Draco’s mouth opens and closes. 

“I chose the wrong yarn, didn’t I?” Molly says fussily. “I knew I should have done a green sweater with a silver _M_ instead. I _knew—“_

“It’s perfect,” Draco says seriously. “Thank you.”

He folds the sweater slowly, as if handling something precious, and Molly’s eyes tear up. 

Before Molly can say anything, Harry hears a shout of delight. Scorpius stands proudly, a dark green tie looped around his neck with a messy knot and dragging on the floor. 

Harry stifles a dreadful choking noise threatening to rise up his lips. 

Sure enough, Draco has a box full of chocolate frogs and fizzy lemon drops in his lap. 

Harry put the wrong labels on. 

Scorpius flings the tie over his shoulder and swaggers in all his seven-year-old glory before falling on top of Rose in a cloud of giggles. 

Draco starts to snicker, and the rest of the room begins to laugh. 

“Nice job,” Draco says. “I always knew Scorpius would take after me in style.”

Harry groans, which only serves to fuel Draco’s amusement. 

Scorpius darts forward and drops a flimsy envelope in Harry’s lap. He steps back shyly, in stark contrast to his loud laughter from mere moments ago. Harry rips open the envelope to find a painstakingly drawn picture of Harry, Draco, and Scorpius holding hands.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, love.” He hugs Scorpius tightly and kisses Scorpius’s hair. “Thank you.”

Scorpius hugs back, but it isn’t long before he’s squirming away and running off with Rose. 

Draco squeezes Harry’s hand gently. 

.

Back at the manor, once Scorpius is in bed, Harry asks, “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Draco says after a moment of hesitation. “What’s up?”

“That, um,” Harry says, clearing his throat. “That wasn’t your real gift.”

Draco smirks. “I figured.”

“No, what I mean to say it—“ Harry rubs his face. “I was going to do it there, but I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Why would you—“

Harry has anxiety up to his throat right now, but it’s fine. He can do this. They’ve been dating for two years now, and Draco has already mentioned that this is something he wants. 

Harry kneels and pulls a small, velvet box from his pocket. Draco stares, his chest heaving. 

“Oh, Merlin,” he says, his voice high. “Oh, Salazar.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry says, “will you—“

Draco tackles Harry onto the floor, kissing him breathlessly, and the box slips through Harry’s fingers. Harry laughs and wraps his arms around Draco. 

“I’m not crying,” Draco says.

“Of course not,” Harry says, pushing back Draco’s hair.

“Shut up,” Draco says, kissing Harry again. 

Harry snorts and reaches out to grab the box. He slips the ring onto Draco’s finger, and Draco buries his face in Harry’s neck, his shoulders shaking.

“Merry Christmas, Draco,” says Harry.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment below or come chat with me on tumblr! darrinya.tumblr.com


End file.
